ABC Squadron
by Sachita
Summary: They call themselves Rogue Squadron. Some have also referred to them as "crazy". The Empire would love to rename them into "Non-Existent Squadron". But they're not as perfect, as they seem. Meet the Rogues...Meet Wes Janson. Chapter five up!
1. A like Adrenaline

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_They call themselves Rogue Squadron. Some have also referred to them as "crazy". The Empire would love to rename them into "Non-Existent Squadron". But they're not as perfect, as they seem. Meet the Rogues...Meet Wes Janson._

_Short stories, all centered around Rogue Squadron, the headlines are respective to each letter._

_This is the story for the letter "A"._

_Sachita_

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**A ****like Adrenaline**

„You're a junkie- oh, oh, a junkie-"

Annoyed, you turn the song off. A song by the Dead Spaceman band. Great.

Just the support you need now- and there it is already-

"Get ready, ready, ready! C'mon, get moving! Emergency code Red one!"

Get in the flightsuit- equipment check- then running, running-

You get in your fighter and hurry through the pre-flight check.

And then , then you're up in the air and there's nothing but the steady thrumming of the engines, the faint humming sound of the comlink and your own beating heart.

You are convinced that it can be heard over kilometers- it's such a loud sound in the silence of space- but you know that it isn't true anyway.

Then the enemy. Your heartrate is speeding up.

Turn to the left, avoid the enemy with a perfect barrel roll- you can hear the agitated chatter of your comrades over your comlink through the dull roar in your ears- like waves crashing furiously against a coast.

You open up beautiful, deadly, orange laser fire and your enemy explodes in a sudden fireball.

"Got one!" You aren't even aware that you said it out loud, but then you hear the confirmation of your Commander. "Well done!" he says, but you're already lost in the next tidal wave and your heart is now beating so fast and loud- thump, thump, thump, thump- that you are sure it will soon cease beating.

And then you are again involved in another deadly dance with your enemy- weave, turn to the right, a flip over--

And then it is over. Suddenly.

You find yourself sitting next to your snubfighter and you are not even sure how you got back here in one piece.

With shaking heads you take your helmet off and sit down on the ground heavily, as if someone has suddenly pulled the plug.

Strangely enough, you unexpectedly remember the lyrics of the song.

Okay. So the Dead Spaceman band has won. You are a junkie.

Except that you are not hopped up on drugs, but on adrenaline.

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_I would love to get some reviews...but regardless of this fact, I'll definitely continue this.  
_


	2. B like Blanket Fort

_Skywalker05: Thank you very much for the review!_

_So, now some light-hearted fun for the letter "B". _

_Sachita_

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**B ****like Blanket Fort**

"We can jump out, you know, all secret-like!"

"And what, yell surprise, or what?"

"Yes, why not? I've forever wanted to do this!"

"No way."

"Aw- why not? You're destroying my childhood dream here."

"I think he's almost here. Will you two be _quiet_?"

Bemused, Colonel Tycho Celchu stared at the pile of blankets and pillows on the floor of his quarters.

His sleepy brain couldn't catch up with the fact , that there was a pile of blankets on his floor- and- and- the pile had just talked. Or hadn't it?

"Shhh now! I think I heard something!"

Ok, so the pile had definitely talked- hissed more. Confused, he walked around it, staring at it with bleary eyes, being extra careful to muffle his steps.

"You have bad ears, both of you. He's not here!"

That had definitely been Wedge's voice. Why was Wedge sitting under a pillow and blanket pile in the middle of his quarters? And who was "he"?

Oh-oh-oh! Now his sleep-addled brain had caught up with the facts. Him- his quarters. His friends.

Well, he would turn the tables on them.

Carefully, he crouched down, feeling sort of silly to be talking with a pillow pile- but, what the kriff.

"He isn't going to come any time soon!" he hissed. "You can come out now."

Wes came out. "Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly, not looking at Tycho. "I really think I heard something."

"Who you're waiting for?"

"Well," Wes drawled slowly, "for you."

Hobbie came out and slapped his head, when he saw Tycho.

"You nitwit!" he cried. "Tycho is right there!"

Wes turned around and looked at Tycho, surprise showing on his weary features.

"Oh. Right. Must be more tired than I have thought."  
And they all were, Tycho could tell.

He had had some briefings now, which probably had given them the time to prepare this. And Wedge- Wedge was on holiday from his duties as General.

Speaking of whom, Wedge said from under the pillow construction:

"Come in, Tycho, into our humble home."  
Tycho clambered in the pillow fort. Standing in front of him were candles, some biscuits and a huge can of tea.

"We figured," Wes said around a mouthful of _something_, "that we deserved this after the kriffed up mission."

Tycho smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the pillows and the company of his friends.

"Hey- no falling asleep," Hobbie whined. "I have made that tea all by myself, y'know!"

In the end it still ended with them falling asleep in the blanket fort, a can of cold tea and some biscuit crumbs next to them on the floor.

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tbc...?


	3. C like Change

_Skywalker05: Thank you very much for feedback! I was so happy to get your review!_

_Emerald: I am glad that you like it. The part with the friends is certainly true. Thank you!_

_This is the story for the letter "C" and it's named Change. Change is inevitable on this world, and it's also inevitable in the galaxy far, far away..._

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**C ****like Change**

He had been on edge for the whole night. She knew it because his posture was always the same; he was sitting on his chair with a straight back and sometimes he stiffly took a quick sip from his wineglass.

He might have changed a lot, but there were some things which you could never hide from your sister, and she could still tell when he was feeling out of place.

"Oh, and haven't you heard, Marge Conner is expecting an illicit child from one of the season workers- of course he has left without a trace! Her father is livid!", he mother was saying excitedly.

"Yes, yes", another aunt chimed in. "These are the ways of the young people of today! No decency at all!"

Uncle Willifred had to add his two credits. "Women!" he snorted. "Always talking about scandals and the like. Let's rather talk about the livestock prices. When I went to Pandath last week to sell some nerfs, I had to take a second look at the prices! Unbelievable! The prices have never been so low."

Father sighed. "Brings us back to the topic of how everything has been better in Imperial times. The prices, the government, the handling…"

For everyone else, this would have been sarcasm, but here, it wasn't. Father was that way.

She knew it, and she knew that he knew it, too.

And that final comment, that seemed to hang in the air like smoke, finally broke through his shell.

He jumped up and his face was slowly reddening.

"You really believe that?" he shouted. "You really do, all of you?"

Slow nods throughout the room. Then in the ensuing silence, her mother's austere voice:

"Wesley, calm yourself. Sit down."

"No!" he snapped violently. "I don't obey you anymore, Mother! Not you, not any of you! Are you so naïve to believe that everything has been better under the reign of the Empire?"

"Yes," Father snapped back, slowly reddening too. "

Your Rebellion just made everything worse!"

"Worse? Worse? We didn't destroy Alderaan! We didn't suppress Toprawa's entire population! We didn't havoc destruction on Ralltiir and we didn't force kids to serve in the military and get killed !"

"Rumour, rumours all of that," Uncle Willifred said, his hands folded on his large belly.

"No." Now her brother's face was calm and he almost looked as if he regretted his little outburst earlier. There was nothing left of the gangly, awkward, loud-mouthed teenager with too many ideals of freedom for his own good, in his place was a stony-faced Major of the New Republic Starfighter Command, someone who lived for these ideals .

A man who still knew how to laugh, as the crinkles around his eyes showed, but also a man, who was sure in so many things, a man whom you could look up to.

She had never been more proud of her brother as she was in that very moment.

His shoulders seemed to sag now.

"I saw it, Uncle. I saw buildings burning. I saw children screaming. I saw the Imperial Stormtroops mercilessly executing a whole family. But I won't argue anymore. I have found my place. I know where I belong."

With that, he turned around and walked out of the room.

"Such a shame," her mother gasped. "Yes!" her uncle agreed. "A disgrace to the whole family."

She pushed her plate back and stood up. "Daughter?" her father asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Shut up, all of you!" she snapped. "It's not him whom one should be ashamed of, it's you! He has accomplished so much already and we should be proud of him. He doesn't deserve this."

And she held her head high, even though it was an effort, and walked out of the room, careful not to look back. She had never been courageous, that had always been him, never her.

She found him outside, on the stairs, watching the stars.

"I heard you defending me, Mira," he said. "You shouldn't have."

"It's about time that I said something,"she murmured.

"Oh Mira," he said, sounding weary. "Why do they have to be so ignorant? Why can't they understand?"

She put her arm around his shoulder and leaned against him.

"I don't know."

"At least I have you, my dear sister."

"They will never understand. They never will and that's something we have to live with. You can't choose your family, Wes."

"I suppose that's true," he finally said resigned. "I suppose it is."

The sound of hollow laughter floated out from the house and they looked at each other.

"Come, "Wes said and helped his sister up. "Let's go. There's nothing left for us here. Absolutely nothing."

Silently they made their ways into the shadows.

Inside, the Janson family laughed at another joke of Uncle Willifred.

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tbc...


	4. D like Devotion

_Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews__**Rilwen-Shadowflame, skywalker05 **and _**_Emperor Sunny_.**

_This chapter's main character is Corran Horn and I hope that you like it._

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**D ****like Devoted**

"You're a devoted man, " Madam President Leia Organa said, as she pinned the medal for "outstanding accomplishments in face of imminent danger to life and limb" on Corran Horn's dress uniform. He leaned back, when she was finished and said loudly: "Thank you", while Major Wes Janson, who had been standing next to the other members of Rogue Squadron leaned forward with a curious expression on his face and quietly remarked to Luke, who was standing next to Leia: "You know whoever invented the designation for this medal should get a price for " how to form the longest sentence in face of imminent danger of grammar failure".

Everyone in their vicinity smiled and even Leia stifled a small laugh. Well, Wes Janson had always been known to be the one, who lightened the atmosphere up.

Corran turned around to face the impressive amount of bystanders.

A Commander who was standing somewhere on the sidelines orders : "Stand to attention!"

Corran immediately straightened to attention and he could tell that every member of the New Republic Military behind him was doing the same, judging by the rustle of clothes.

"About turn!"

There was the sharp sound of many people turning on their heels as the whole military contingent turned around in a perfectly synchronised movement.

Someone should give a medal to whomever invented such moves, Corran thought dryly as he spun around and marched together with the other Rogues to the banqueting hall.

After dinner was over, he made his way through Coruscant's dark streets, alone. He didn't feel like talking or having company at the moment.

In a dark park, on a lone park bench, he sat down and looked up to the stars, which were barely visible through Coruscant's smog.

"A devoted man" Leia had said. Corran closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the smell of a spent summer day in the city- the tired footfall of people who came home after a long work day, a whiff of cheap speeder fuel hanging in the air, the uproar of some fighting fellows around the corner and the quiet rustling of a curtain in a flat somewhere nearby.

Night had fallen and tinted the meagre bushes and trees next to Corran a darkish blue.

He exhaled and shook his head. Devotion. Such an easy word, so fraught with meaning, a word which has been misused on so many occasions already. He knew that Imperial soldiers sometimes used it to excuse their deeds: "I was blinded by my devotion- that's why I did it."

He had been blinded by his devotion once, too. When he had worked for CorSec- the Corellian Security- as an officer he had been devoted to them, hunting those with a blind passion down, who defied law and order.

Also he hadn't distinguished between them: they had all been criminals in his eyes, no matter how noble their intent might have been: laws were laws. He didn't think like that anymore.

His eyes had been opened now. Ever since joining the New Republic he had known, that he would never be blinded by his devotion again. From now on he could see clearly.

If the New Republic ever used dishonest schemes and planes, he would disobey orders and fight those, who had initiated those orders.

No, Corran thought, I am not a devoted man.

I am merely a man with ideals, who is willing to act upon them.

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	5. E like Endings

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_Thank you very much for reviewing, skywalker05 and R2-D2106 (now I have understood how you meant it, so: thank you!)..._

_Sachita_

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**E**** like Endings**

**_Coruscant, 20 ABY_**

'Twas a cold rainy day on Coruscant. That in itself wasn't a rarity, but it was not what he wanted, today, on his last day here.

Maybe the last day for forever. He had no idea when or if he would ever return.

The man at the railing silently stared in the grey, misty sky, but finally gave himself a mental shove.

"_Stop being such a kriffing pessimist." _Or at least that's what Wes would say, anyway.

Wes…He looked on his chrono. Fifteen-hundred.

If anything, Wes had always been punctual.

The sound of footsteps. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Two heartbeats later, Wes stood next to him, forearms on the railing, gazing motionless in the dark ravines of Coruscant's skyscrapers.

"Lovely day, huh?" Wes's right hand was nervously fiddling with his left thumb.

Hobbie pretended not to notice. He didn't look at Wes, instead he slowly exhaled: "Yeah."

The ensuing silence was hanging between them, almost tangible, stirring up anxious emotions in Hobbie's heart. Someone had to say something…anything. Even if he had to do it.

Even if he had to start talking, even if he had to be the one to interrupt this dreadful, tense silence.

But Wes beat him to it. As if he had heard Hobbie's thoughts and now wanted to contradict them, he murmured in a low voice:

"Thus, the poet says, there are no fortunes, nor is there as much wisdom in a thoughtless discussion as there is in a wordless silence between two beings."

Hobbie gave him an amused, lopsided smile.

"Going into poetry in your old age, Janson?"

"Tycho taught it to me."

All previous amusement forgotten, Hobbie turned back to the city.

"_It's always that way between us now," _he thought sadly. "_All emotions are so fleeting, so unmemorable, the conversations feel dull, when in earlier years we could talk on for hours."_

Hobbie knew now, that he desperately needed a change of air, a fresh start, away from the military, away from his comrades, even away from Wedge, Tycho and yes, Wes.

He had found out, that there was a flying Academy being opened up on his home world Ralltiir, and that it was still in dire need of a flying instructor. So he had thought that this sounded like something he could do, at least for some time…and then…he had no idea.

Wes however continued talking now, a frozen smile still on his face.

"And I have you know, that I, Major Wes Janson, Ex-New Republic Starfighter Command am NOT old."

Hobbei turned his head to look at him, and for the first time for days, he really looked at his friend.

Wes's formerly jet-black hair was streaked with grey, his eternal youthful features were now etched onto a slightly wrinkled face and his hands trembled ever so slightly.

He was still a very handsome man, but Hobbie realised, as only he as Wes's best friend could do after so many years of knowing the man, that that certain something, that had always been present had gone missing somewhere…or somewhen.

"It's not as if we were old," Hobbie could have answered, "it's just the universe. It has turned around, and around and around again…and left us standing somewhere at the beginning."

Or he could have joked: "You sure? I don't think you can count all the grey strands of hair on your head anymore."

But he did neither. He just shrugged: "Yeah", and watched as the smile slowly slid off of Wes's face.

The rain was falling in sheets now and the wind blew fiercely into their faces.

Pensively, Hobbie turned around and saw Wes do the same.

Storms had stopped to scare them a long time ago. As had bullets and black-clad men with bad and malicious intents.

A small nostalgic part of Hobbie longed to be a small child again, clutching on his mother's hand, looking at the world with big, wondering eyes. Or at least the hopeful young man, who had joined the Rebels and thought for years, that if he couldn't take the universe on all alone he could at least do so with the help of his three best friends.

The bigger, pragmatic part of Hobbie knew, that looking in the past was futile. Vain.

He wondered if Wes felt the same.

The winds pounded harsher on their backs. They still stayed on the platform.

Wes wanted to say something. Hobbie saw it in the way his mouth turned up at the sides, opened and closed again.

If he had wanted to put it rudely, he would have said, that Wes looked like a fish out of the water.

In hindsight, the comparison wasn't that far-fetched. Wes was in fact out of his depth, had always been out of his depth, when it came to these kinds of situations.

Nevertheless, Hobbie didn't harbour any ill feelings towards Wes.

That was just the way Wes was, and nothing would change him anymore.

They were like two old, sinewy, knotted willows, forever standing on a certain spot- and everyone knew, if you tried to replant old trees, they wouldn't survive.

Hobbie stared again skywards.

A lightning bolt struck one of Coruscant's orbital weather stations and the blast of energy was professionally guarded to one of the energy storage stations, thus dividing the heavy clouds.

Wes pointed to them. "Look," he said. "The mass of clouds is divided in two halves."

Hobbie looked at the two halves of dark, blueish cloud mass, but he didn't yet say anything.

Instead he just nodded.

"There are so many factors involved, but it's probable that they will merge again."

"But what if they can't?" Hobbie countered, something sharp in his throat. "What if they are plucked to pieces by the wind? What if they just dissolve into nothingness?"

Wes's answering smile was bittersweet. "Then they'll meet again as particles."

"Nothing is certain." Hobbie took some hesitant steps forward, towards the shelter of the building.

Wes came to stand next to him and he looked Hobbie in the eye. "Some things are certain."

Hobbie looked away, and then on his chrono. 16:30.

"Wes, you have to go."

Wes smiled again, that fatigued, bitter little smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"I know."

He suddenly drew Hobbie into a quick, tight hug, whispering a hushed: "So long, Hobbs," into his ear. Hobbie hugged him back, and they both didn't want to let go.

Wes finally drew back, regarding Hobbie for a long time.

Then he smiled, for real this time, and gave Hobbie a salute, something indefinable and bright in his eyes.

Hobbie saluted back and stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching Wes go: a slim man with wide shoulders, but quiet strength in his stride.

"So long, Wes. Good-bye."

Later, as he punched in the coordinates for Ralltiir and soared towards the stars with his X-wing, he looked back to the storm: the dark clouds had merged back together.

But the hollow feeling in his mind stayed.

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_If you liked it...I am always very happy about reviews. Constructive criticism is appreciated._

_Sachita (:  
_


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